


witches' storm

by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren)



Series: FullmoonFiclet Entries [64]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hypothermia onset, M/M, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9508043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/triggeringthehealing
Summary: He’s pretty sure what he’s seeing isn’t what he’s supposed to be seeing. Granted, his eyelids are drooping and there’s a small cloud of condensation in front of his face, but Stiles still knows that he should be worried.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Full Moon Ficlet](http://fullmoon-ficlet.livejournal.com/460485.html) challenge on Livejournal - prompt #208: blue

He’s pretty sure what he’s seeing isn’t what he’s supposed to be seeing. Granted, his eyelids are drooping and there’s a small cloud of condensation in front of his face, but Stiles still knows that he should be worried. 

Under normal circumstances, he’s pale. He always has been, having inherited his skin tone from his Mom. The only time his skin has been a different color was in the summer when it turned red after time in the sun, or in situations that caused him to blush. None of those apply right now. For one, he’s alone, and his embarrassment limit has shifted since high school, so a blush is not even a remote option. For another, it’s January, and he’s not in Australia. California might be warm, but Beacon Hills does stay cold in the middle of winter.

He breathes out, and the cloud that comes out of his mouth is smaller, the condensation thinner than moments ago. It’s yet another reason why he should be worried, because it’s obvious that his body is losing heat. The blue tint to his fingers is a dead giveaway too, the color nowhere near his normal one. Still, though his arms are beginning to tremble both with cold and exhaustion, he keeps his grip on the baseball bat in his hands as much as he can.

“C’mon, Scotty,” he mutters, teeth clattering when his lips separate. 

_ It’s going to be fine _ , Scott told him before they left town.  _ It’s just a little trip, we all need a break. And we’re still in the county, that’s still the pack’s territory. _

Stiles really should’ve known better than to trust Scott’s idea of “fine”. Because they were only past the town’s boundaries for a few minutes before the rather unfriendly neighbourhood witches coven decided that they’re encroaching and that they’re all too far from their own land. Right after the snow started falling and the wind got stronger, the pack scattered to chase the witches off, leaving Stiles to guard the car. That was several hours earlier, and Stiles has managed to deplete his phone’s battery about an hour earlier, having tried to call his friends. 

_ I wonder if the text went through _ , he thinks. 

With the last bit of his phone’s battery, he sent off a “freezing SOS” message to the pack’s group text thread. At that point, any heat that the car had was gone, and Stiles knew that he needed to get someone to come back. 

_ It’s not all that bad _ , he muses a moment later, when his body stops shaking. 

He still can’t feel his fingers properly, but his hands are still clutching the baseball bat. He’s curled up on the front seat, nose close to the fogged up window that’s starting to show signs of freezing over. Whatever the witches did, it’s beyond a simple snowstorm or a cold snap. 

_ Freezing to death isn’t how I thought I’d go _ , he thinks as he tries to move, but every attempt becomes too much. 

Just as he thinks that he’s going to close his eyes for just a little bit, that he’ll take a short nap to get his energy back, there’s a rap on the window, quick and sharp and nothing like Scott’s usual knocking on anything.

When he manages to pry a hand off the bat so he can clear the window, relief floods through him as he gets to look at who is on the outside of the car door.

“Derek,” Stiles whispers.

“Open the door, Stiles,” Derek grumbles. “We’ve gotta get you out before you catch pneumonia. What the hell was Scott thinking, leaving you alone?”

“Not alone,” Stiles mumbles.

He stumbles out of the car, and he promptly lands against Derek’s chest. When he doesn’t move, Derek tugs him up and then lifts Stiles into his arms. 

“I’ll run you a hot bath when we get home,” Derek tells him. 

Stiles thinks of home, of the apartment they bought together, and the thought is enough to warm his cheeks at least. 

_ Small victory _ , he thinks.  _ Derek will just have to unthaw the rest of me. _

With that thought, Stiles snuggles closer into Derek’s torso, and for the first time since the pack left to chase witches, Stiles’ lips turn into a smile.

**Author's Note:**

>   
> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/) || [my sterek fic tumblr](http://triggeringthehealing.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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